


Gilded Nurseries

by Too_Many_Seeds



Series: Motherhood (Pregnant Deputy ) [1]
Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: F/M, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-17 12:54:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16516865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Too_Many_Seeds/pseuds/Too_Many_Seeds
Summary: It was only a matter of time before John Seed would discover her current condition, and Rook was terrified at the lengths one of her greatest enemies would go to in order to keep her safe.





	Gilded Nurseries

**Author's Note:**

> warnings: some dark undertones because … well, John, but pretty mild. Obviously warning for pregnancy too, particularly pregnancy during rather…dangerous situations.

He first noticed it after her cleansing. His brother had just chastised him, adding the insult to the injury of his sin being so publicly on display, and as he gestured for the Deputy to be taken to the van, he vaguely noticed a slight swell to her stomach. 

John was an observant man - in both present and past occupations, it was a necessity - and so it made him frown slightly. In the few weeks that had passed since he had first seen the Deputy in the church, it would have made more sense for her to have _lost_ weight, judging by the stress and exertion she’d have been put under. Even more so in _his_ region, where he had made a point to gather as many resources as he could to starve and weaken the people of the valley. 

Yet she was definitely plumper than he imagined, and with another cursory glance, he noticed that she even seemed softer, somewhat. That was even stranger, yet before he could truly consider it, she was being driven away and she was lost to him.

The next time he saw her, it was unmistakable. Bound to the chair in front of him, John was able to see the swell in her stomach. Still, it had not quite sunk in yet, and it wasn’t until he was leaning forward and ripping the top of her shirt, the side of his leg brushing against her stomach that he realised something was wrong. 

He glanced down, frowning, before it hit him. He froze, eyes flicking up to the Deputy’s, who was adamantly staring at the ground. 

“Well, well,” he said softly, stepping backwards and putting his tattoo gun off to the side. “This is unexpected, indeed.” John peered down at her stomach again and couldn’t help but chuckle. “But not necessarily unwelcome.”

Rook was seething. She wasn’t quite sure what she had expected; she had known that they were eventually going to find out. She hadn’t been showing on the night of the church - she hadn’t yet told the Sheriff honestly - but in the months that had passed, even Hurk and Sharky had been able to see the weight she was gaining. Nick and Kim had given her one of the greatest lectures she’d ever received about putting herself in danger (”you’re not the only person on the line now, Dep” they’d said, and she’d sighed because she knew they were right). 

But still. She was the only person who could do this. After her first encounter with Faith, Rook had been steering clear of the Henbane region and the drugged air that polluted it and instead sticking to the valley. It had a base she could stay at in Falls End and she was able to do smaller missions in the meantime. It did gall her; going from capable Deputy to being coddled by anyone who knew. She had been wearing looser, baggier clothes to avoid people realising, but at this stage, it wasn’t something she could hide. 

Rook definitely didn’t like the way John was looking at her; there was a smugness in his eyes, a confidence that made her wary. 

“It wasn’t planned,” she told him quietly, watching him carefully. 

He laughed at that. 

“I had you pinned for Wrath, my dear, perhaps Pride, even,” John said, “but not quite Lust.” 

A furious blush rose to her cheeks, and she had to glance away to hide her own naive embarrassment. 

“It wasn’t Lust,” she muttered, but the words sounded weak to her own ears. “I…thought it wasn’t.” 

She wanted to bite back her words, knowing how childish they sounded, but surprisingly, John’s reaction was not the gloating or mocking she expected. He sighed and took a few steps over towards her, kneeling down by her side and staring up at her in the chair. His expression was sincere and understanding, but there was still something predatory in it and she understood what he was doing. He had been a lawyer and he knew how to get people to talk. 

His sickly sweet, saccharine demeanour was just one of those methods; a coaxing for her to speak and spill all. But fuck, she _wanted_ to talk. 

“Did he leave you, my dear?” John asked, eyeing her stomach. For a moment, she was sure that he was going to reach out and caress it, but he remained still. 

“What do you _think_ , genius?” Rook replied scathingly. “Do you see a ring on my finger?” 

He sighed but didn’t rise to her baiting tone. Instead he stood, surveying her carefully and Rook wasn’t sure she liked how his eyes lingered just a little bit too long on her stomach. After a few seconds of silence, he frowned; tilting his head and pacing a few steps to the side.

“You _knew_ you were in this condition?” John asked lowly, eyes narrowed. Her heart began to beat slightly faster, but she nodded. His mouth turned downwards, pacing back towards her. “And you’ve continued to put yourself in constant danger?” 

She scoffed, every word of the Rye’s impressive lecture coming back to her in an instant, but she pushed it aside out of her sheer fury. Where the fuck did _John Seed_ get off on trying to shame her? 

“Not that it’s your business,” Rook began with a scowl, “but I haven’t really had much of a choice in the whole ‘danger’ thing. Courtesy of…well, _you.”_

 _And your family,_ she thought but didn’t think it wise to say. She doubted she needed to. 

“Did you not?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at her. “Have my family and I not given you every opportunity to _atone_ , to join us and be safe? But you could not _lower_ yourself, could you?” He cut himself off with a soft gasp, whirling around and bracing himself against the workbench. He picked up the previously discarded screwdriver and brandished it towards her in an accusation. “You…have willingly endangered your own child for the sake of your _Pride.”_

 _“_ Oh, fuck off, John,” Rook scowled, an angry red flush rising to her cheeks. “I can’t neglect my job.”

“You,” he began, pointing at her with the screwdriver again, “are going to be a _mother_.” 

“But I _am_ a Deputy,” she retorted quickly, staring him down firmly. “And if I can save people from you, then I’d make whatever sacrifices I’d need to.” 

John narrowed his eyes, and for a moment, she wondered if he was going to hurt her. But his gaze fell to her stomach once more and he visibly softened; his lips twitching and the crease in his brow smoothing before he turned around and placed his screwdriver back on the bench.

When he faced her again, she didn’t like the look in his eyes.

“Well,” he said, smile too sweet for her to feel comforted by it. “You’re not going to have to worry about that anymore, my dear.”

She frowned, immediately not liking where this was going. Was he about to threaten her or her child? Her fingers clenched against the armrests of her chair, wondering how much effort it would take to break them if need be. John sighed, stepping closer to her and leaning down slightly to look into her eyes; adamant on a farce of intimacy. 

“I had thought to indulge your sin, Deputy,” he murmured, staring intently at her. “To let you gorge yourself in it until you were bereft of all else…but I see now this is not what you need.” 

“John…” Rook began cautiously, her heart pounding as the sense of foreboding she’d had from the moment she’d roused came to the forefront of her thoughts. 

Perhaps he had seen her anxiety, in the way a predator can see the fear of its prey before its jaws clamp shut, for he raised his hands up in what might have been a gracious attempt to soothe her. 

“You’re not going to have to worry about anything, my dear,” John told her, smiling calmly. “I’ll take care of everything.” His hand reached out and her eyes widened as he caressed the swell of her stomach with a tenderness that shocked her. “You can focus on becoming a mother…in a safe, _appropriate_ environment.” 

Despite her bonds and location, the spark of resistance in her had still had her convinced that she was going to escape John’s bunker. When all he wanted to do was hurt her - make her atone - it had been easy to hold onto hope. But now, she could practically hear those bunker doors shutting her inside; it was much more definite and terrifying for her to think that John Seed intended to keep her ‘safe’. 

And how she shuddered at the thought of what _he_ would consider safety to be. 

It was near dystopian for her. She was moved into a particular room deep within the heart of the bunker, fitted with much nicer interior decorations and healthier lighting that didn’t ring reminiscent of a horror movie. The bed was softer than anything she’d felt in months, and the first time she laid down on it, she’d resisted the urge to moan and sink into the mattress. She was even lucky enough to have her own bathroom - another luxury she’d been denied. 

Her cage was certainly a gilded one, but the door that led to John’s personal room kept her reminded that it was a cage nonetheless. There was no door from her room to the hallway; to leave, she would have to go through John’s main entrance and the guards posted outside it. 

In the following days of her adjusting to her new quarters, she barely saw hide nor hair of John. Instead, she was met with a woman that she was assured was the finest of the cult’s doctors, who immediately set about scolding her for risking her child’s life so much and didn’t she _know_ how dangerous the first trimester was for her pregnancy? 

Rook had bitten her tongue and kept quiet; deciding it was probably best to stay on amicable terms with a woman sticking a needle into her arm. Thankfully, her child appeared to be perfectly fine, which allowed her a moment of relief. 

She finally met with John again on the fourth day, when he woke her up as he strode confidently into her room with two cultists following behind him, a large basket carried between them. 

“Good morning, my dear,” he greeted her warmly as she sat up, mindful of her stomach and rubbing tiredly at her eyes. 

“John?” She muttered blearily, blinking rapidly to see the man responsible for keeping her here. “What’s…” 

He smiled patiently at her, waiting for her to wake while he directed his followers to place the basket at the foot of her bed. 

“I thought it might be prudent to deliver you some items to ease your…struggles,” John said, opening the lid. He began to unpack some items that could have easy had a place in a luxurious pregnancy care hamper, and a part of her wanted to sigh in relief but the other was still utterly confused by the situation. 

She reached forward tenderly and picked up the nearest box, turning it towards her to see it was one of those inflatable gym balls. The package was clearly marketed for pregnant women, judging by the eight-month bulge on the smiling model’s stomach. What with her back already hurting, Rook begrudgingly admitted that it would likely be a great help in the weeks to come. 

She set the box back down and saw that John was staring expectantly at her, and she realised he was waiting for a reaction; trying to gauge how she felt about his gifts. 

“This is…very nice,” Rook commented rather awkwardly, unsure what to say. There were a few moments of silence before she added on a lame, “thank you.”

He seemed to be appeased by this, and smiled graciously at her. 

“I’m glad, my dear,” John said, sidestepping around the bed to approach her. Perhaps it was just the morning tiredness, but she was surprisingly unafraid of his proximity. He leaned over, hand cupping her cheek, and she blinked at the slight chill to his skin. “You should be comfortable during this period, and I will see to your every need.” He nearly beamed down at her, deliberately glancing at the swell of her stomach and she saw his eyes soften momentarily. “You will want for nothing.” 

She was about to open her mouth and say something, perhaps remind him that this wasn’t _his_ child - because he seemed to be forgetting that - but before she could, she spotted a heavenly creation inside the hamper basket. 

“Is that chocolate?” Rook asked softly, sighing because she knew the answer and it would be her undoing. 

He raised an eyebrow and turned to the basket, picking up the block of - oh, good god it was her favourite flavour- chocolate. Spotting the look in her eye, he couldn’t help but chuckle, and gestured towards her with the block in his hand. 

“Your doctor said a little bit of comfort food would be a good idea for you,” John said, not bothering to hide his amusement. “Reduce your stress. Make your body adjust to relaxing and growing as its needs to.” 

That should have made her growl angrily at him, but instead she ignored it; it was too early in the morning to start arguing. With a little bit more eagerness, she peered over the other items on her bed, seeing a lavender-scented cream for her stomach, some therapeutic bath salts and one of the softest looking blankets she’s ever seen. 

Her body yearned for the spoils, but she frowned, giving John a careful glance. There was a catch, there had to be a catch. Was this a ploy to make her confess? Tempt her into doing what he wanted?

“What’s your game, John?” Rook asked, eyes narrowing slightly. He frowned at her question, setting the chocolate bar back down on the bed while Rook’s mind churned out the possibilities. “Is this to make me say ‘yes’? To make me confess so you can carve my sin into me and tear it off?” 

John stared at her with an unreadable expression for a moment, before he gestured dismissively at the two cultists standing by the door. They gave her a curious stare but left nonetheless, leaving her and her enemy alone together. 

“You’ll be pleased to know the Father has approved of my decision to delay your confession and atonement,” John replied, not quite answering her question fully, in true lawyer style. He smiled tightly, the expression not reaching his eyes. “We would not want any unnecessary stressors for you or the child, after all.” 

She scoffed, thinking of Kim and the ‘stresses’ they’d been willing to place on her.

“Why me? Why am I getting this treatment?” Rook asked, gesturing to the hamper basket and surroundings. “This isn’t _your_ child, John; you have no reason to be taking an interest in its wellbeing.” 

His eyes narrowed, and he quickly closed the distance between them; towering over her where she still sat on her bed. Not one to be cowed by a tantrum, she met his stare unflinchingly.

“Your child,” John murmured softly, breaking away to stare at her stomach, “will be loved.” 

Her brow creased in confusion and she resisted the urge to push him away from her.

“What? Of _course_  it will,” Rook replied, shaking her head and wondering whether she should feel offended that he seemed to think she would reject her child.

“By _both_ of its parents,” John finished, giving her a meaningful glance. Her stomach dropped, remembering her unborn child’s father, and she adamantly stared at the ground - not wanting to see his expression. He sighed, making a soothing noise at her distress and grasping the back of her head to pull her against his chest. “Your child deserves a father who loves it. Not one who _abandoned_ it.” He pulled away slightly to meet her eyes. “Who abandoned _you.”_

She flinched, remembering the night she had received his message (” _Sorry, I can’t.”)_ and realised she was alone in this. Not a few days later, and this cult mess had broken out, and she’d had a welcome distraction from the growing life inside her that would be bereft of one of its creators. 

“I can do this on my own,” Rook replied, clenching her fists into the blanket at her waist. “I don’t need anyone’s help.” Her determined sentiment of “ _I don’t need him”_ was unspoken but still rang clear. 

John was not willing to indulge her in this; in her pride as a jilted woman that demanded she prove that she didn’t need her runaway coward of a man. 

“How long would it have taken for a bullet to have gone too deep?” He asked, no pity or softness in his voice. “Strayed too close, done too much damage?” She scowled, but he was right. “I am not just keeping you here out of selfishness - though I _will_ readily admit to that as well. I am keeping you here because you seem to insist on throwing yourself into danger.” 

“Danger that you caused,” she pointed out, but there was a lack of heat in her words; too tired to argue with him.

“Danger that you could have avoided,” he easily replied, barely breaking a sweat. “That you _should_ have avoided; it should have been an easy choice to put aside your pride if it meant the safety of your child.” He cut himself off again, biting down on his exasperation and budding wrath. “But that doesn’t matter. You’re here, and I will keep you safe.” His hand dropped to her stomach, brushing the swell there tenderly. “ _Both_ of you safe.” 

Still unable to let him have the last word, she couldn’t help but speak up again.

“It’s still _not_ your child,” Rook muttered, as a scolded child might. 

There was no wrath in his touch, as he cupped her cheek and pressed his forehead against hers in the gesture of absolute intimacy of his family. 

“I will be its father,” John told her firmly; the words a promise and command all at once. “And you - its mother - will accept me too.” 

He stepped away from her, smiling calmly once more. He gave a pointed glance to the items he had brought her - provided for her, as a doting lover and future father ought to do - and made his way to the door.

“I have work to do,” John said regretfully. “I’ll join you in the dining hall for lunch, my dear. Do try to get some rest until then; you can leave everything else to me.” He flashed her another smile, smug in its manner, before waving. “I’ll see you soon.”

He left the room humming, already anticipating his next visit with his future wife and budding family. 

**Author's Note:**

> pls spoil me too, john
> 
> thanks for reading!


End file.
